


The Lightning Strike

by YaniCardaria



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaniCardaria/pseuds/YaniCardaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She smelled like cinnamon and honey... he never really stood a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What If This Storm Ends?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Snow Patrol's The Lightning Strike; give it a listen if you have the time. This trilogy has come to fruition through the unintentional help of a friend who introduced me to this song, and a fellow author who wrote a piece inspired by it -- so thanks for that.

**What If This Storm Ends?**

It was only 9:42 in the morning, and the day was already being chalked up as a lost. River, his recently acquired long haired kitten, had decided that nights were obviously meant for playing with every crinkly piece of paper and plastic something-or-another he had ever acquired. After an hour of attempting to sleep with the racket, he exhaled heavily and got out of bed. He managed a quick pick up of anything potentially noise making by way of curious kitten paws, and then collapsed back onto his bed, ignoring the little needle-like pinpricks of claws as she walked on his back and settled on his bum. He finally managed a few hours of sleep before the ringing of his phone startled him into confused consciousness.

Reaching an arm blindly to his night stand, he discovered that his phone was not where he had left it the night before. He squinted as he tried to locate the missing device. His gaze settled on River who was just outside the doorway, paws curled inwards as she watched him silently. Her eyes seemed to be laughing at him, as if she knew something he didn’t, and he sighed loudly. He stood and walked towards her, and she quickly darted away, revealing the ringing phone that was now decorated with her long golden fur. He picked it up and shut off the alarm, yawning as he glanced at the time. He was late.

Of course.

Rushing about the room, he quickly changed into his usual, finding a pair of clean trousers in the closet and a mostly clean shirt in the bathroom. He almost tripped on his suspenders before he slid them in place and then found his favorite bow tie under the bed courtesy, he was sure, of Miss River. He hauled on his boots, pausing to put on his trusty tweed jacket and watch, and then tied the laces. Okay, he was dressed. He looked up to see River’s petulant face. He glanced at the time, slipped his phone into his pocket, and ran into the kitchen. River followed, zipping between his legs as he made his way to the cabinet where he kept her food. He poured some into her bowl, checked her water, grabbed his keys and wallet, and flew out the door. If he had timed it right, he would just make the bus.

He ran down the steps, taking them two at a time, before he reached the bottom floor. Giving his reflection a quick glance, he sprinted to the front door only to stop dead in his tracks. It was pouring out! He looked at his watch again, straightened his shoulders, and ran out into the rain. He’d barely make it as it was; there wasn’t time to go back for an umbrella. He dashed out the building and ran towards the bus stop, frowning as his jacket became heavy with rain.

"Lovely," he grumbled as he reached his destination just in time to watch the bus he'd been hoping to catch turn the corner and disappear. He groaned as lighting flashed in the distance. Just perfect. He peered into the rainy streets, debating his next course of action. He was about to take out his phone when he heard a honk behind him and turned to see a cab waiting, the door slightly open. A slender hand stuck out of the crack and waved him over, and with another glimpse at his watch, he jogged back towards the cab and opened the door. Inside sat a drenched blonde with a glowing smile. She had scooted to the far side of the cab and patted the seat next to her.

“Have a seat then,” she told him. He deliberated for half a second before a loud thunder crash urged him into the car. She turned to the driver.

“Thank you, we’re ready now.” The driver nodded and turned into traffic, starting down the road.

“Thanks,” he managed, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

“No problem,” she looked him over and laughed. “You work at the theatre, right? The one a few blocks over?”

“Yes,” he turned surprised eyes in her direction. “I’m John Smith -- I play The Doctor.” She laughed again, and he settled into the seat, feeling surprisingly at ease.

“Rose Tyler,” she introduced herself, offering a damp hand. He shook it and gave her a cautious smile. “I run the bakery near the theatre,” she supplied and his eyes lit in recognition.

“The Powell Estate,” he realized. “They make phenomenal biscuits – my favorites are the ones with jam.” She blushed lightly and they released each other’s hands.

“Mine too,” she confessed, before leaning in to whisper, “they go great with the Bad Wolf blend from The Last Centurion tea shop.”

“Brilliant,” he laughed before shifting the wet jacket slightly, trying to make the material less uncomfortable. He looked out the window and sighed. “I could use a cup of tea; today’s turning out to be complete rubbish,” he admitted, and turned to face her again.

She laughed, before giving him a sunny smile. “It’s not even half way through yet!”

“It’s this bloody storm,” he grumbled, and she laughed again.

"Yeah, but... what if this storm ends?" She tucked wet strands of hair behind her ear and gave him a bright smile. It was cliché, but he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. She was absolutely beautiful. The cab pulled off to the side and idled. She handed the driver some bills and opened the door, giving him a wink, before dashing out and shutting the door behind her. He watched her retreating back quickly disappear into the crowd of bodies and umbrellas, and then the cab gave a lurch as it once again merged into traffic. He blinked and swallowed, turning his head forward to watch the falling rain drops on the windshield. His heart seemed to squeeze almost painfully. He lifted a slightly wet hand to rest on his chest and felt the rapid beat.

"Blimey."


	2. The Sunlight Through the Flags

**The Lightning Strike: The Sunlight through the Flags**

He spent the next two weeks both living in fear of, and eagerly anticipating, the next time his path would cross with one Rose Tyler. Every time the weather held long enough that he was able to walk to work, he passed The Powell Estate with as much nonchalance as possible. There were times when he caught just a glimpse of the top of her golden hair as she ducked under the display case to fetch something, and other times when he was able to see her full smiling face as she served customers.

This particular morning had been a close call where he feared she almost noticed him, and he quickly ducked behind a billboard sign until she walked off to the other side of the bakery. Sighing in relief, he wondered if what he was doing was considered stalking. He had thought he had built up the nerve to talk to her again last night, practicing on an uninterested River. She had simply blinked at him, and then proceeded to attack his toes with painful precision. Perhaps he should try on a creature who could actually talk back.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie, taking a deep breath to steel himself, before turning back and continuing in the direction of the theater. He wasn’t ready. His last attempt at wooing a woman hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Well, _he_ had thought the fez was cool at least. Since then he had thrown himself into work. He just needed a bit more time to gather his wits, and then he would burst into her shop, sweeping her off her feet.

"Doctor," he heard a male voice call out, and he stopped to face the direction of its owner by habit. He saw a tall, thin man waving from the entrance of a shop, and he realized he had been stopped in front of The Last Centurion. He felt himself blush brightly from the tips of his ears to his neck as he thought of jam biscuits and the Bad Wolf blend.

"Sorry," he turned to continue walking, assuming the greeting hadn't been for him, and was meant for an actual doctor nearby. How mortifying.

"No Doctor, I mean you," the voice called out again, and he stopped once more as the other man joined him on the sidewalk. "You are The Doctor, aren't you? You’re the one in the play To Gallifrey, over at the TARDIS theatre?" He straightened immediately. It was rare that he was recognized on the street, let alone twice in two weeks.

"Yes, that's me," he smiled, and the other man grinned, extending a hand. He shook it automatically.

"Oh, brilliant!" He turned back to the shop behind him. "Amy," he called out, and a redhead poked her head through the door, "you were right!" Her eyes brightened and she nodded her head to the inside.

"Come in, then!" She disappeared back into the shop and the man turned to face him again.

"I'm Rory, and that was my fiancée Amy. Would you happen to have some time to join us for a cup of tea? We're huge fans of yours!" He stuck his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet. John did have time. He had left his house at the same time he normally did, even though today’s showing was two hours later than usual. Routines after all; everyone had them. He didn’t want to have… missed anything on his way to work.

"Are you going to keep calling me The Doctor?" He asked by way of answering, and Rory laughed. They both made their way to the entrance. The Last Centurion had a welcoming exterior with decorative flags hanging from the sign post; the flags might be his favorite bit.

"Does it bother you?" He opened the door and the two men walked inside.

"I think I could be quite proud of that nickname," he admitted and nodded to Amy who was preparing tea behind the counter. "It's the first time I've had fans!" They both sat at a small table towards the back that had four mugs waiting with an empty plate in the center, and Rory laughed.

"You're brilliant, Doctor. You can trust that!" He felt himself grow warm as Amy say next to Rory, tea pot in hand. She placed it next to the plate and the door chimed, signaling a guest.

"I brought the biscuits!" He heard the voice he had committed to memory say, and an undignified squeak escaped his lips. Rose Tyler appeared shortly after, a bag with The Powell Estate logo in her hands, and gave them all her sunny smile. He had missed that smile.

"We ambushed The Doctor," Amy gave her a wink, and Rose sat down next to him, giggling as she opened the bag of freshly made biscuits and set them on the plate. She handed him one with jam, Geronimo biscuits she had called them, as Rory poured the tea. He accepted it mutely, pink coloring his cheeks, and she began preparing her tea. He could smell cinnamon and honey, and he found himself wondering what her kisses would taste like.

“You are a hard one to catch, Doctor.” His eyes shot to meet hers, widening. “I had to resort to sinister means,” she continued, and he gave her a nervous smile.

“Was I expected?” He made himself busy by preparing his tea and she laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. She let it linger there a smidge longer than necessary before leaning back in her seat, waiting for Rory and Amy to finish making their tea to their liking. They chatted about how Rose and Amy had been flat mates during university, and how yes, the couple were truly fans of his. He found himself relaxing as the topics flowed and he realized he was grateful to have been cornered.

He shyly watched Rose out of the corner of his eye, loving how animated she was as she and Amy told the story of her time wasted studying engineering, and the row she'd had with her mum when she confessed that she was meant to have a love affair with baking. Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm and he soon found himself facing her completely, thoroughly engaged in the conversation. At some point, Rory and Amy had gotten up to help some costumers in the shop and he realized that he had spent over an hour with his new friends.

"Blimey," he looked at the time, glancing at her in concern, "don't you have to get back to your shop?" He only had a few more minutes he could spare before he had to leave himself, but he really hoped he could spend them with her.

"Mum's watching it," she smiled, but stood so he could get up as well. He smiled sadly as they both walked towards to the front of the store, waving at the couple who were each in discussion with their customers. "I'll be getting a bit of a rush in about twenty minutes though, so I suppose it's time to set you free." He beamed at her.

"I suppose next time I could just pop in for a moment," he offered, and opened the door for her. She gave him an open-mouthed smile with just the slightest bit of tongue peeking through and walked outside. Oh, she had a gorgeous mouth.

"Now you're getting it," she laughed, and the sound woke the butterflies that he thought had settled in his stomach. Distracted as he was, his limbs seemed to tangle themselves into a right mess as he tripped while exiting the shop, landing into the smaller frame of the woman in front of him with a surprised "oomph" and another round of blushing. He had been doing so well!

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you Doctor.” Her voice was a quiet whisper in his ear, and she helped steady him with a strong grip. He righted himself and thanked her, mentally cursing his awkward limbs. Tripping on the girl you liked, he was pretty sure, was not cool. He felt her slender fingers grab hold of his hands, weaving their digits together in a firm clasp. He met her gaze and she gave him a warm smile, squeezing his hands briefly before standing on tip toe to kiss his cheek.

"Tomorrow?" He asked with more confidence than he felt. His cheek tingled from where she'd kissed him and he was a bit lightheaded and giddy.

"Bring the tea," she answered, squeezed his hands one more time, and then releasing him to head back to The Powell Estate.

He licked his lips and looked back to the exterior of the tea shop, the lingering taste of Geronimo biscuits and Bad Wolf tea in his mouth. She had been right -- they were great together. He took a deep breath and exhaled into a smile. His hands still felt the warmth from when she held them and the air around him smelled of cinnamon and honey. Squinting, he gazed up at the sky.

The sunlight through the flags had never looked so bright.


	3. Daybreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be adding a small prequel/epilogue from Rose's perspective, for those interested. :)

His phone was ringing loudly, and John wondered who would be so cruel as to call at this time when even the sun had yet to rise. River sat on his hand, purring loudly as she watched him struggle to wake, before she was dislodged when he shifted. His now free hand reached out to his side table and found his phone, bringing it to his ear without opening his eyes. He thought he rumbled a greeting, but it may have come out like a whine.  
   
“Morning lover,” Rose’s voice greeted, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. He hummed happily, yawning as snuggled back into the sheets, wishing she were next to him.  
   
“It’s six-ish in the morning,” he answered around another wide yawn, and River poked her head near his mouth, causing him to snap it shut. Rose giggled.  
   
“Almost four-ish in the morning,” she corrected, and he groaned.  
   
“That means I’ve only slept two hours.” River curled against his side and he ran his fingers through her fur with his free hand. She began purring again.  
   
“We have a wedding to get to,” she gently reminded, and he smiled sleepily again.  
   
“Your dress is beautiful.” He remembered the way it hugged her curves and seemed to bounce as she walked. “You look beautiful,” he amended. He wondered if she blushed at the compliment. She was pretty when she blushed.  
   
“The wedding is at ten,” she prompted, and he imagined her beautiful dress, in a beautiful pile, on a beautiful carpet…  
   
“It’s almost four-ish you said. We’ve got time.” …next to a beautiful bed, in a beautiful room…  
   
“Lover,” he felt a little thrill rush through him when she called him that. “You promised to help me pack up and deliver the cake; the one that is the masterpiece of my career and can only be fully assembled when we get there...” she trailed off and his eyes snapped open.  
   
“Which is why we’re leaving at five,” he remembered as he shot out of bed. River made a sound of protest and he gave her an apologetic look. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes—no, ten. Yes, ten minutes!”  
   
“See you,” she was probably smiling as they hung up, and he tossed the phone to his bed. He scrambled around the apartment getting dressed, glad to have left the suit he had to wear to the actual wedding with her. She was much better at being the responsible one in their relationship. River watched him from her perch on the bed, kneading his abandoned pillow.  
   
“Okay River,” he looked at her as he put on his fourth favorite bow tie, “I'm trusting you. Keep guard while I’m gone.” The cat simple stared at him and he gave her a crooked smile as he grabbed his phone off the bed and watch from the nightstand. He then dashed out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. She quickly followed and he went for the pantry to get her food. Checking her water bowl, he grabbed his keys and ran out the door, pausing only to lock it behind him. He took the stairs two at a time, laughing to himself as he felt a feeling of deja vu wash over him. If this was anything like the last time he was running late, today would turn out to be a good day.  
   
He arrived at the bakery twelve minutes after they hung up, and she greeted him with a sound kiss, her gloved hands held away from their bodies so as not to dirty them.  
   
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, and she gave him another quick peck.  
   
“Alright Doctor,” she pointed to the boxes the leaned against the display case with his favorite tongue-touched smile. “Let’s do this!”  
   
When they finally got on the road she drove her shop van, having brushed off his offer to drive. “You’re a bad driver,” she had told him. “I don’t want the cake all over the interior, and I’d like to get there on time.” He had been mock offended, but she gave him a lingering kiss and a bag of specially-made Geronimo biscuits that were shaped like bow ties, and all was forgiven. As daybreak arrived, he enjoyed the way the rising sun seemed to bounce off her, giving her a golden glow. He reached out and grabbed her hand, locking their fingers together, and they settled into a comfortable silence.  
   
After they had arrived at the venue, Rose began putting the finishing touches on the cake tier by tier as John carefully brought the boxes in. Rory popped his head into the kitchen and they both congratulated him before insisting he go get ready, promising him they didn’t need any help. After the cake was finally put together and set in its proper location, Rose fetched their bags from the van and handed him the one with his tuxedo.  
   
“Go help Rory, love,” she hugged him tightly and he returned her embrace, happy for any excuse to have her in his arms. “Thank you.” He beamed at her and bent slightly, lips seeking hers. It only lasted a moment before he straightened, popping another quick kiss on her nose, and then left the kitchen to find the anxious groom.  
   
The wedding was perfect, Amy had ecstatically declared. The ceremony had been beautiful, the food fantastic, and the cake was hailed a work of art. Donna Noble, Amy’s cousin, caught the bouquet and shortly after, the dancing began. John, or the Drunk Giraffe as he had been recently christened, twirled Rose around and reaffirmed his earlier thoughts that both she and the dress were beautiful. The Ponds knew how to party, and this particular celebration went well into the night. Needing a break from the festivities, Rose led John outside to rest in a nearby gazebo. They stood together, hands intertwined, as the beautiful weather finally gave way to a light rain.  
   
All was quiet and Rose sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. She reached out a hand to feel the rain as it fell and he laughed. He was happy. He thought back to barely a year ago when they had first met. She had burst into his life, completely drenched from that horrible rain, and he knew. When he had met the Ponds, the smell of cinnamon and honey had followed him throughout the remainder of the day. He confirmed then that he had never actually stood a chance against her. She turned to face him and he closed the distance, lips meeting for a soft, unhurried kiss. She tasted of cake, champagne, and his utmost favorite flavor: Rose Tyler. They broke apart slowly, her biting her lip, and he moved them to sit on a nearby bench. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her comfortably into his side.  
   
This, he inhaled the night air deeply, was a good day.  
   
After a few moments of content silence, the sounds of Rose’s soft snores reached his ears and he laughed quietly. A lazy smile spread across his lips as he absentmindedly played with a few strands of her hair. He looked down to her where she was snuggled against him, eyes closed in sleep and drooling a bit on his jacket, and kissed the top of her head.  
   
“Yeah,” he whispered to the night, “it’s good.”


	4. The Lightning Strike

Rose waited inside the TARDIS theatre, golden heels reflecting the bright lights of the lobby. Her blonde hair was twisted into a low bun with a few loose curls framing her face and she had kept her makeup light and natural. She looked good, and felt fantastic.

"Tyler," she heard her former flatmate's voice, and turned to greet her friends.

"You guys clean up nice," she gave Amy a hug and Rory an appraising eye. "Love the bow tie." They both grinned at her and Rory gave her a program.

"This is it," his excitement was clear as Rose read the cover. _To Gallifrey_ , it said, and had the face of a man with deep green eyes and a crooked smile.

"Oh," she breathed, hand tracing his features, "he's gorgeous." Amy laughed and Rory rolled his eyes.

"Good actor too," he quipped, and Rose punched his shoulder lightly.

"Shut up," she giggled. They began walking towards the auditorium entrance.

"The Doctor is electric," Amy was saying. "John Smith puts on such a great performance." They paused, taking in the lush seats and grand blue curtains that were the TARDIS theater's trademark. Rose turned to her friends, grinning widely.

"Come along, Ponds!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll miss 11 when he goes... I wish all the best to Matt Smith! Thank you for such a great Doctor!
> 
> Feel free to leave me a comment; I would love to know your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
